


Diopposite of Fun

by angelofthequeers



Series: Beelicious [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Angst, Arguing, But they still care about each other, Castiel has Anxiety, Crying Castiel, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drunk Dean, Even when fighting, Fights, Flowers, Fluff, Kissing, Language of Flowers, M/M, Massage, Romance, Sorry bbys this doesn't start well, Sorry bbys this starts off with angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 11:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11781981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelofthequeers/pseuds/angelofthequeers
Summary: I mean, what's any relationship without fights?Guess that's the honeymoon phase of things over.





	Diopposite of Fun

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> Hello, children. I have several excuses as to why I have been absent *shuffles palm cards*
> 
> 1\. Fandom drama. I’m not going to go into details but…it sapped my inspiration and I had to start withdrawing from the fandom because I just can’t.  
> 2\. University started back. Hell, this is just so I can procrastinate doing something that I should be doing.  
> 3\. GISHWHES. I really don’t need to elaborate.  
> 4\. My own novels. I made a decision that changed my plot more than I expected, so I’ve been working my butt off to fill my notebook with all the additional info I need. I’m still not done.
> 
> Okay, enough stalling. Let’s try and get back into the swing of things.

 

Moving in together had been a horrible mistake.

Oh, sure, waking up next to Dean every morning is worth it. They hadn’t slept alone in months, yeah, but there’s just something about sharing a home that makes it far more special. And it means that Cas gets to come home and see Dean straight after work, rather than having to wait while they unwind after their shifts. They’re pretty much around each other all the time now when they’re not at work.

And maybe that’s the problem. Maybe it’s too much too soon.

“ _Dean_!” Cas snaps as he gets home from work and promptly nearly breaks his neck on a pair of Dean’s shoes. “How many times do I have to tell you to pick your shoes up?”

“Like you’re any better with your freaking laundry!” Dean immediately hunches over defensively on the couch, crossing his arms. “Christ, just ‘cause I’ve had my mouth on your dick and ass doesn’t mean I wanna pick up all your underwear from the bathroom.”

Glowering, Cas storms into the bedroom and slams the door shut, running his fingers through his hair with a sigh before starting to change. Okay. This can’t happen. They can’t have another fight. Their relationship’s been noticeably strained since they started fighting; now they only kiss each other before work and before bed, never mind hugging, and let’s not talk about how little they have sex anymore. Cas fancies himself a civilised man, not needing to fill such primal urges to function, but Dean’s so fucking unfairly good with his mouth and cock that going without is like having a constant itch these days.

Maybe they just need to talk to each other. Compromise. That’s what good couples do, right? Dean’s the most reasonable partner Cas has had, so of course this should help. Hell, Cas even feels like an equal in this damn relationship. Isn’t that a novelty?

Now in his pyjamas, Cas takes a deep breath and returns to the living room. Just as he opens his mouth to suggest a truce –

“And while we’re on the topic of mess, how ‘bout you do your fucking dishes instead of leavin’ them for me to do?” Dean says. “I sure love finishing work and havin’ to do _more_.”

Rooted to the spot, Cas’ fists clench and his teeth grit. White hot anger surges through him.

“You’re hardly perfect, Dean,” he says scathingly. “I know it certainly isn’t me who leaves the toilet a mess after using it. And if you would clean your cooking mess like I ask –”

“Which I make because you can’t fuckin’ cook!” Dean jumps up, face red with rage. Cas stars right back at him, using every ounce of energy to not show how much that barb about his lack of skills had hurt. “I didn’t know this was a fucking competition! If I was gonna be harassed all the time, why the hell did I ask to move in?”

“Yes, Dean, why did you?” Cas says nastily. “Heaven knows that my life was so much more peaceful before you came along!”

For a moment, they stand there and try to out-glare each other. Dean’s the one who breaks it, though he doesn’t lose by any means.

“Where are you going?” Cas demands when Dean stomps over to the front door.

“Out. Don’t wait up.”

“Dean –”

“No, you’re right. I should just give you the peace you want. See you later, _Castiel_.”

The door slams shut. Cas stands frozen, the events of the last twenty minutes suddenly crashing on him all at once, and he’s about to run after Dean when the familiar rumble of the Impala reaches his ears, then fades.

Dean’s gone. Dean left him.

“Oh my god,” Cas whispers, sinking down on the couch. Dean _left_. He’s _gone_. But he’ll be back, right? He has to be! He wouldn’t leave Cas for good over something like this!

Except that he called Cas by his full name. Castiel. Dean hasn’t ever called him Castiel, except for their first meeting when reading Cas’ name tag.

Scrambling for his abandoned bag, Cas fumbles around inside and pulls out his phone with shaky hands. But when he calls Dean, all he gets is voicemail. He tries another two times and once again, he just goes straight to voicemail.

“No, no, no,” Cas mumbles frantically, fingers flying to type out a message.

_Dean, please call me._

_I’m sorry._

_Please let me know you’re okay._

_I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of it._

_Please just come home. Please. Let’s talk._

_…Just please let me know that you’re alright._

Half an hour passes with no reply, so Cas is forced to admit defeat. He’s got no clue where Dean is and no clue if Dean’s even coming back. Why would he? Quite frankly, it’s a miracle he’s put up with Cas’ crap for six months. Getting out while he could is probably the smartest thing he’s done.

But that doesn’t make the hole tearing Cas’ chest apart any less painful.

* * *

 

It takes Cas hours and a near-anxiety attack to finally fall into an uneasy sleep on the couch, having no energy or motivation to drag himself to bed – and boy, it’s the worst sleep he’s had in literally months. Coincidentally, it’s also the first night in months where he hasn’t slept next to Dean.

He’s jolted awake by a sudden sound and it takes his addled brain a moment or two to realise that it’s the sound of the Impala outside the apartment complex. Dean’s back! But any hope in Cas’ chest swiftly drowns in the hollow emptiness. Dean’s probably just come to grab some stuff. He’ll be staying at Charlie’s, won’t he? At the moment, he probably can’t bear to lay eyes on Cas; not that Cas can blame him, really.

If the car hadn’t woken him up, the sound of Dean stumbling through the front door would have. Cas freezes, lying absolutely still, trying desperately to pretend that he’s asleep in case him being awake pisses Dean off even more.

His heart hammers in his chest as Dean trips through the living room, muttering drunkenly under his breath. Is Dean a violent drunk tonight? But he’d never lay a hand on Cas…right? Cas is actually panicking when Dean pauses right next to the couch. For a moment, there’s nothing but silence.

“Fuck,” Dean mumbles. A hand clumsily cards through Cas’ hair, and Cas struggles not to burst into tears when Dean staggers to the bedroom and returns with a blanket, which he drapes over Cas as best as he can. Fantastic. Even pissed and drunk, Dean’s still looking out for Cas. Cas can’t really claim to have done the same, can he?

Fuck this. He needs Dean’s arms around him right now. Even if they break up the next morning, he needs Dean to hold him at this moment.

He gives it a few minutes before sitting up slowly, gripping the blanket around himself, and tiptoeing to the bedroom, where he finds Dean passed out on top of the covers, not even undressed.

“Dean,” he murmurs, eyes stinging. Dumping the blanket on the bed, he leans over Dean and pops the button of his jeans. Dean stirs when Cas tugs them down as carefully as possible.

“C’s?” Dean slurs. Cas fights back a sniffle. Why the heck is he such a cry baby? It’s a wonder that Dean hasn’t gotten sick of his crying yet. Arthur used to think that it was pathetic before he’d trained Cas out of that habit, and Meg hadn’t really appreciated the one time he’d cried either. No wonder Dean’s sick of Cas’ shit.

“I’m here, Dean.” he says as soothingly as he can, fishing around on the floor for the sweatpants that Dean had discarded this morning. It’s difficult to pull a pair of pants up on a half-asleep person, but he does his best and eventually succeeds, then changes Dean’s shirt too. Task done, he carefully guides Dean under the covers and, in a moment of weakness, bends down and kisses Dean’s forehead. At this point, he’ll take all the kisses he can get.

Now that Dean’s changed and tucked in, Cas climbs into bed on the opposite side, his back to Dean. Just because Dean took care of him a few minutes earlier doesn’t mean that he actually wants a bar of Cas, but Cas is too damn weak to go back to the couch; even being in the same bed is better than that, though he wishes he could muster up the courage to touch his boyfriend.

Soon-to-be ex-boyfriend? God, Cas prays not.

Behind him, Dean groans. Cas freezes when a hand gropes blindly at his back, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and tugging weakly.

“Dean?” he whispers. With another groan, Dean shuffles drunkenly along the bed, and Cas can’t contain his sob when Dean slings an arm over him and sloppily kisses the nape of Cas’ neck, breathing heavily.

“‘M sorry,” Dean says, voice garbled. This is what does it; the dam inside him crumbling to piece, Cas turns in Dean’s arms and buries his face in Dean’s collar, fingers digging into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas sobs, the material of Dean’s shirt dampening under his face. “I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me. I’m sorry.”

Dean just holds him tight, not saying a word as Cas bawls like the baby he is.

“Sleep,” Dean mumbles when Cas finally wrestles his sobs under control. “Talk in the morning.”

Though it’s still an uneasy sleep, it’s infinitely better than the couch. Having Dean’s arms around him and scent surrounding him works miracles when it comes to sleeping.

* * *

 

Oddly enough, the first thing that crosses Cas’ mind the next morning is that it’s a Thursday and Dean should be at work by now. So why is he still in bed, tracing circles into Cas’ belly?

He stiffens as the memory of the previous night comes crashing back to him.

“Dean?” he says cautiously. If Dean’s being affectionate with him then maybe his boyfriend isn’t mad enough to leave again…or maybe he’s trying to soften the blow? Maybe this is it and he doesn’t want to put up with Cas’ crap anymore? Honestly, Cas appreciates that he’s trying to be considerate about it.

 _‘Shut up,’_ Cas thinks. His brain just flips him off.

“Hey, Cas.”

Dean’s still caressing his abdomen. Cas shivers at the touch.

“You should be at work.”

“Called in. Had to talk to you before you started. Plus, the hangover fucking sucks.”

Cas chooses not to say anything so that his mouth can’t get him into trouble again.

“I’m sorry,” Dean finally says. “I’m sorry I bitched at you. I’m sorry I left. And I’m sorry I didn’t text you back. Didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Cas still can’t bring himself to turn over and actually look Dean in the eye. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have snapped at you about your shoes.”

“Legit complaint.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why you’ve put up with me for this long.”

Dean heaves a huge sigh.

“Honestly?” he says. “I get why you think that stuff but it’s kinda starting to annoy me. Like, I’m not ‘putting up with you’. I really…y’know, that-word you. I’m not gonna leave you just ‘cause you fuck up from time to time.”

“But you left last night.” Cas cringes when his voice cracks.

“I know. I felt fucking horrible as soon as I walked out. But going back in…I would’ve hit something, Cas. Not you. God, no way would I ever hurt you like that. But…I get violent when I’m mad. And I…didn’t want you to see me like that. Didn’t want to scare you off.”

“You could hardly scare me off, Dean,” Cas mutters. “I’ve seen far more terrifying things than an angry boyfriend.”

He almost hates himself for melting into Dean’s touch like he’s doing, because he’s such a weak little thing that one touch renders him pliant and useless.

“I don’t get it,” Dean says. “We don’t hate each other. We stayed with each other all the time before. Why the hell are we fighting so much?”

Cas remains silent, thinking.

“I think it was too much too soon,” he finally admits slowly. “I don’t regret you moving in, Dean. I love that we live together. But…I think that we’re constantly in each other’s pockets. I think that we’ve had so little time to ourselves that every little thing irks us. I never had a problem with your shoes before.”

“And I never gave a shit if you left your underwear on the floor. But now it just annoys me and I don’t know why.”

They lapse into another silence, Dean still toying with Cas’ stomach.

“What do we do?” Cas says. “We can’t keep fighting like this or ‘we’ won’t exist for much longer.”

“Maybe we need space,” Dean suggests. Cas’ heart leaps into his throat. “I don’t mean leaving for a week or anything. Just…we used to have that time to ourselves before, when we lived separately. Maybe we need a bit of that time to unwind. I mean, I know I’m always wound like a spring after work. And I get that time to chill but…you don’t.”

“But the whole point of moving in together was to spend more time with each other,” Cas says miserably. “And most of our arguing is over messiness and other petty things.”

Dean hums but doesn’t say anything for a moment.

“Maybe we need a system,” he says. “Like I had with Sam when we were kids. We figure out who does what chore and whoever fucks up gets a punishment.”

It’s actually not a bad idea. Most of their arguments stem from their disorganisation and clashing methods, so maybe a compromise is what they need.

“I like it,” Cas says. Dean hums contentedly against the back of his neck.

“I’m not gonna leave you, Cas,” Dean says after at least a minute of silence. “No fucking way. I care about you too much to just walk away. I just…seeing you on the couch last night…I realised how much leaving like that fucked you up. And I felt so shitty.”

Finally, Cas turns in Dean’s arms. His heart breaks at the pure pain in the green eyes that meet his.

“I would have been in a bad headspace whether you stayed or left,” he says. “In a way, it’s better that you did leave.”

“But you kinda thought I was gone for good, didn’t you?”

“…A little, yes. But I’m always going to have those fears. Don’t you dare feel guilty, Dean. Removing yourself from the situation was the best thing you could have done.”

Dean’s eyes soften. Then, finally, he leans in and gently kisses Cas, and Cas’ mind goes blank as he kisses back. Their lips work together for only a few moments before Cas is regretfully pulling away.

“I need to get ready for work,” he says. Dean whines.

“Stay in bed with me, Cas,” he complains, thumb rubbing a circle into Cas’ hip. “C’mon. We can hug each other and have cutesy, sweet couple sex. Or angry, make-up sex. Whichever you want.”

Cas laughs.

“We just had a conversation about space, Dean.” He kisses Dean sweetly. “How about you draw up a list of chores today?”

“What, without you?”

“Dean, I hate all chores. It doesn’t matter what you assign to me.”

Dean snorts loudly.

“Fine. Raincheck for the sex?”

Beaming, Cas kisses Dean again.

“Definitely. But you can come and wash me in the shower if you like.”

“Yeah, like I’m ever gonna say no to that.”

* * *

 

Between their morning conversation and the best shower he’s had in a long time, Cas is practically walking on air when he heads to work later. And it’s later, when he’s flitting around and fixing up his displays, that he stumbles on the perfect way to tell Dean how much he’s appreciated.

The bouquet of blue-purple flowers in hand, Cas is in a rather good mood as he heads home that afternoon after closing. He hasn’t seen Dean all day – Dean hadn’t brought his lunch as usual, though for once Cas isn’t overly worried – and, despite their conversation about space earlier that day, he’s almost buzzing to see Dean again. Maybe the lack of space thing is only an issue when they’re already hacked off about other things, because it had never been a problem before they started arguing.

“Dean?” he calls, closing the front door behind him and noting with a small smile that Dean’s shoes are neatly out of the way. Before he can start to worry about the lack of reply –

“Heya, Cas.”

Almost out of nowhere, Dean appears. A laugh is wrenched out of Cas when Dean grabs him around the waist and twirls him, then pulls him in for a deep kiss that immediately turns Cas’ brain into mush and shatters what rational thought he might have left.

“Wow…” is all Cas can say when Dean finally puts him down. Butterflies erupt in his belly at the grin on Dean’s face.

“Never gonna get tired of doing that to you,” Dean says smugly. “C’mere, Cas.”

He takes Cas’ free hand and tugs him into the living room. Cas’ breath hitches at the sight of a vase of pinkish-white flowers sitting on the coffee table.

“Diosma,” he says quietly. “‘Your simple elegance charms me’.”

Though his grin softens, Dean’s kisses don’t.

“‘S one thing I like about you,” he says. “Just…thought we both needed a reminder.”

With a smile, Cas kisses Dean and then presses the blue-purple flowers into the man’s hand.

“Delphinium,” Cas says. “‘Big-hearted, fun’. Both qualities of yours that I love.”

Dean stands still, regarding Cas oddly for a moment. Then, grinning again, he scoops a startled Cas up bridal style, kissing him again. Cas wants to hit himself for being surprised, because this is a favourite trick of Dean’s and he falls for it every damn time.

“I think this is the fastest you’ve propositioned me for sex,” Cas says sarcastically as Dean carries him to the bedroom. “I mean, I’d barely even walked through the door.”

“I’m wounded!” Dean mock-gasps, depositing Cas gently on the bed. “I don’t want sex _all_ the time!”

Cas just raises an eyebrow.

“Fuck off. Not my fault you’re unfairly hot. Just get your clothes off already and lie on your belly. I swear it’s not a sex thing.”

Once he’s naked and stretched out on his stomach, Cas’ stomach flips when Dean straddles the backs of his thighs and starts rummaging around in the bedside table. What the heck can this be if it’s not sex? It can’t be, because Dean knows about his issues with not being able to look at his partner while they fuck…so what’s going on?

“Just relax, Cas,” Dean says. A bottle clicks open and Cas can’t help but stiffen. If that’s not lube, he doesn’t know what –

Something cool trickles across his shoulders, making him jump. Dean laughs.

“Relax,” he repeats. He punctuates these words with fingers digging into Cas’ shoulders, and Cas groans and sags when he realises what’s going on. That’s not lube. That’s massage oil. Dean’s…massaging him.

“Oh, god,” Cas groans as Dean’s amazing hands knead his back, seeking out every knot and every bit of tension and dissolving them into warmth. Dean chuckles.

“Thought you might like this,” he says. “Got the massage oil on Valentine’s Day but we never got around to usin’ it.”

The next hour is probably one of the best of Cas’ whole life. By the time Dean’s finished massaging him, he’s sprawled on his back and looking more like a sack of boneless flesh than anything resembling a human (or maybe that’s just how he feels).

“Oh my god, I love you,” Cas slurs. “Don’t ever leave me.”

With a fond smile, Dean slides down onto his back and pulls the covers over the both of them, despite still being fully dressed. Cas immediately snuggles into his side, purring.

“I love you,” Cas repeats. “I’m sorry for all the arguments.”

“Quit apologising,” Dean says. “Or I’ll put you on toilet cleaning duty.”


End file.
